


Backfire

by anaer



Series: batflash smut [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League of America (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Bondage, Chastity Device, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Sex Toys, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaer/pseuds/anaer
Summary: Wally irritated Bruce into sex. Wally probably didn't think this through.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Wally West
Series: batflash smut [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023571
Comments: 27
Kudos: 108





	Backfire

Wally wasn’t sure what he had been thinking.

No. Scratch that. Wally knew exactly what he had been thinking when he’d antagonised Bruce, when he’d ignored Bruce’s increasingly irritated demands to leave him alone, glared at him, and said, “Make me,” in that particular tone of voice; he’d just not been thinking with his brain. The results weren’t entirely unexpected.

He keened, the sound muffled by the gag shoved in his mouth. (“You talk too much,” Bruce had chided irritably as he buckled it on tight, and Wally had rolled his eyes because he had things to _say_ about that one). Three fingers shoved up his ass (and that _hurt_ with no prep, _Bruce_ , even if Wally could take it), ruthlessly tormenting his prostate for what felt like hours now, leaving him squirming helplessly against the mattress, unsuccessful in his attempts to pull away. There wasn’t anywhere he could go anyway; his wrists were cuffed to the headboard, and Bruce had kept a steady grip on the bar between his knees keeping his thighs spread wide ever since he’d attached it. As if holding on could stop Wally if he really wanted to move.

Wally’s legs and stomach were a sticky mess. Bruce was determined tonight (determined to shut him up? teach him a lesson? The Batman’s mind was a mystery), and Wally had already come twice just from this alone. He was well on his way to a third orgasm, dick—no, not dick, _cock_ (he couldn’t think the word dick while in bed with Bruce)—already hard and leaking again despite remaining untouched. It was fucking annoying, was what it was. Almost as annoying as the fact that Bruce still had most of his clothes on while Wally was bound to the bed naked.

Bruce glared down at him as if the rapid-fire thoughts Wally was currently blocked from voicing were still personally insulting him. Wally rolled his eyes. The effect was no doubt ruined by the soft, huffing whimpers pulled out of him as Bruce doubled down on his efforts. Wally canted his hips, did his best to fuck back onto Bruce’s hand, but that damn grip on the spreader bar hindered his best efforts.

“Stop that,” Bruce chided sharply. Fingers left his ass for one second – disappointingly – and Bruce slapped his inner thigh. The stinging pain just made Wally glare, and then Bruce’s fingers were back, just as unrelenting, insistent, and annoying as before. Wally groaned in frustration.

It was ridiculous how they’d gotten here, honestly. More ridiculous for Bruce than Wally, he’d like to think, because Bruce was the goddamn Batman while Wally, despite being more experienced than eighty percent of the League, was still generally seen as the immature one because everyone had known him when he was a teenager. Possibly also because he had been known, on occasion, to behave in ways that had Clark levelling that all too potent disapproving stare in his direction. It was, much to Bruce’s eternal consternation, entirely more effective than Batman’s could ever be.

Bruce’s glare tended to make Wally want to flip him off.

“See,” Bruce was saying, catching Wally’s attention again. He leaned over him, eyes dark and piercing. Wally narrowed his own green eyes, glaring back. Bruce shoved his fingers hard against that spot inside him, and Wally’s moan was loud even muffled as he tried once more, rather unsuccessfully, to pull away. “You _can_ shut up.”

Sometimes Bruce himself tended to make Wally want to flip him off. He lowered his chin mulishly, cognizant of the drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth and flipped Bruce the bird. It took a second too long for Bruce to notice, and when he did, he hummed his disapproval, slipping his fingers free of Wally’s ass again. Bruce’s hold was the only thing that kept Wally from attempting to follow them. He clenched uselessly around nothing and scowled as best he could around the gag.

“I’m not annoyed,” Bruce said, voice deep and gravelly, dark in a way that definitely screamed irritation. Wally snorted indelicately, not even bothering to roll his eyes as he gave Bruce the most pointed look he had. “This is exactly the kind of behaviour I should’ve expected when I invited an immature brat like you into my bed.”

That was it. If Bruce was going to insult him to his face without at least having the decency to keep getting him off, Wally refused to just lay here and take it. There were things still to be said, after all, and a bevy of complaints about the terrible treatment to be had as soon as he got that stupid gag out of his mouth. He turned on the vibrations, glaring at Bruce the whole while. Bruce stared back impassively, lips a thin line that gave away nothing. He moved his hands to slip free like he always did and—his wrists stopped short before they went anywhere.

Wally frowned. He tugged again. He glanced up, got into a truly impressive yanking session with the cuffs before a sinking feeling settled into his stomach. He turned his eyes back to Bruce slowly, trepidation rising at the mild, satisfied glint reflected out of Bruce’s eyes.

Well, shit.

The noise he made then was questioning and more than a little frustrated. Bruce finally let himself smile ever so slightly. Wally narrowed his eyes.

“It took time finding a metal dense enough to hold you, but the look on your face right now is worth it. You always slip free whenever you want. Not this time.”

Well, fuck.

“You would hate how much money I spent on these,” Bruce added, just to be an asshole. “If you proceed to act like a brat, _Flash_ , I will treat you like one.”

Damn it, Bruce calling him _Flash_ in _bed_ , as much as Wally always loved it, did nothing to lessen the sudden surge of irritation.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Wally had very many things to say for himself, and he did so, calling Bruce every unkind name he could think of from behind the gag. Bruce waited for him to finish. Wally did, dropping his head back onto the pillow, and accepted that nothing about this night was going to go the way he’d anticipated.

“No?”

He probably should’ve thought this through a bit more. Wally cursed him out one more time for good measure. Bruce slapped the inside of his thigh again, hard enough to leave a fast-fading bruise. Wally yelped. Bruce switched to his left leg and hit him even harder. Wally’s erection didn’t flag.

“That’s the behaviour that I mean,” Bruce said simply. If Wally could’ve expressed his feelings properly, he would’ve said that for all Bruce knew, Wally was very enthusiastically singing his praises behind the gag. He shared that as best he could with a flat look. Bruce pinched him this time, right over the quickly healing bruise. Wally groaned, clenching his fists tight.

“You’re disrespectful.”

One finger back inside him then, almost catching him off guard. It was even more annoying than what Bruce had been doing before, deeply unsatisfying. In and out and in and out, giving him nothing except frustration. He made a loud, displeased noise in the back of his throat.

“Impatient,” Bruce continued, “Reckless,” listing off all Wally’s shortcomings. Wally barely cared, especially not as Bruce slipped his finger back in him. “Temperamental.” And out. “No self-discipline.” In.

The finger left his ass again, but before Wally figured out it wasn’t coming back this time, both more and less than what he wanted, Bruce wrapped a fist around his cock. Wally let out a strangled groan, thrusting his hips up into the too tight grip. Bruce jerked him off quickly and methodically with a well-practiced hand. It barely took a minute before Wally was panting weakly, gasping, hips jerking wildly as his third orgasm exploded all over Bruce’s hand. He was still breathing hard when Bruce let go and wiped the mess off on Wally’s quivering stomach.

“I think you just need to be worn out.” Something in Bruce’s voice, in the glint shining out of his eyes, twisted Wally’s stomach nervously. He skipped over the thought before it was fully formed and stared up at Bruce, daring him to do his worst. If Bruce thought he could tire Wally West out by getting him off a bunch of times, well, Wally didn’t see any way he was losing that one. Bruce scanned his eyes slowly over Wally’s body, and Wally shivered at how closely he was being examined. His trepidation was a nervous sort of excitement. That look on Bruce’s face promised only bad things.

Bruce disappeared off the end of the bed. Wally made a questioning noise, craning his neck to try and see what the man was doing, but he disappeared into his giant closet. Wally thumped his head back down and grunted his displeasure. He didn’t want to be left alone in this bed at any point, but especially not when he was forced to _wait_ until Bruce decided to come back. It was awkward feeling so exposed, unable to close his legs, ass stretched loose and on display, leaking lube.

More importantly: it was boring waiting for him. The seconds ticked by slowly – too slowly (Wally could count to a thousand in the time between seconds), thirty seconds taking a year, a minute taking another one, until finally Bruce emerged almost two whole minutes later and rejoined him on the bed.

The muffled rant Bruce received this time only lasted about ten seconds.

Bruce shook his head. “Like I said. Impatient.”

Wally flipped him off again. Bruce shrugged it off, dragging fingers down Wally’s chest, and he yelped when Bruce suddenly twisted a nipple. He jerked against the cuffs, cursing Bruce out as best he could. Fingers brushed loosely over his asshole again, and Wally nodded quickly – a little desperately. The sharp noise he made when Bruce didn’t comply was disappointment. Wally was more than ready to get back to the action. Bruce’s hand, though, had disappeared.

Fuck, Bruce _would_ get his kicks from tormenting him. Wally glared, then shifted up the bed to move away. Bruce watched him, amusement dancing through dark blue eyes at the sight of his awkward shuffle. He waited until Wally stopped to grab hold of the bar and drag him back down the mattress, dragging until Wally’s back was flat and arms stretched taut.

“You’re almost tolerable like this.” Bruce sounded way too smug. If Bruce was trying to intimidate him, it wasn’t working. This thing between them worked because Wally had never been and would never be intimidated by Batman.

Much.

He took great satisfaction in the incomprehensible, _“Fuck you, too,”_ he replied with.

Hard rubber pressed into him, slow and insistent, wider as it went along and then _too_ wide, it felt like, but Wally’s ass was still loose and slick enough that it slipped all the way in with one smooth push and settled. The plug sat thick and unforgiving inside him. Wally squirmed around as much as he could – not much with Bruce holding his legs in place – trying to get it to do something other than stretch his ass obscenely, to force it out of him, to feel more _comfortable_ at least (knowing anyway it was a lost cause), while a muffled whine began to fill the air because _fuck_. Fuck. He _hated_ these things.

“This is what acting like a brat gets you. Next time leave me to do my work.” Bruce touched the base of the plug, pushing firmly against it, and Wally groaned. It wasn’t a pleased sound. “I know you hate it,” Bruce acknowledged, which did absolutely nothing to reassure Wally. “But I don’t.” Wally closed his eyes and sighed. Well, the joke was on Bruce, then. He was still getting Wally off, even if not exactly in the way he’d intended.

Fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, and Wally jolted. Something cold fit snugly over it, over his balls, even more uncompromising, then the snap of a lock, and Wally’s eyes snapped open. The noise he made was surprised and a little desperate. Begging. Bruce met his eyes, the barest hint of a smile reflected back, and squeezed Wally’s dick through the cage, holding it still as Wally whined and tried to buck him off.

Something else glinted in the light, in Bruce’s free hand, and…No. Bruce wasn’t…he wouldn’t…Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Bruce _was_. Cool metal pressed against his slit, then pushed _in_ so, so slowly – millimetre by millimetre, it felt like, further and further and—

Wally could feel it all, acutely aware of the way the sound pushed deep inside his cock, heavy in a way that made him want to cry. He shook his head, struggling to fight back the small whimpers it pushed out of him as it pushed into him.

“Yes,” Bruce said sharply, and just as quickly it was done. Settled in and plugging his cock completely. Wally couldn’t stop squirming, trying for…for something, for anything, wanting the cage off his cock, wanting the sound gone, wanting the plug out of his ass. His imploring whimpers were swallowed almost completely by the gag.

Bruce rolled off the bed and to his feet in one motion. “Maybe next time I tell you to leave me alone, you’ll listen.” And then he produced something else in his hand and held it out for Wally to see. Wally blanched, shaking his head even more desperately. Bruce patted him on the knee. “I have work to do. I’ll come check on you soon,” he said, and clicked the remote on. The plug inside him vibrated to life on what felt like the highest setting, sending a jolt through every part of his body – through his cock already fighting to get hard. He whined again, whole body shaking, but Bruce was already out the bedroom door, leaving him alone and trapped for the foreseeable future.

Goddammit.

~~~

Wally was going to kill Bruce. As soon as he was free, he was going to take the goddamn pillow off of this goddamn bed and smother the sadistic asshole with it until he wasn’t breathing anymore. He had no idea how long it had been. His sense of time had slipped away almost instantly, lost under the overwhelming barrage that had already lasted for too long as soon as it had started. His cock ached, sore from its perpetual, losing battle against the cage because the goddamn plug up his ass hadn’t stopped vibrating for a single fucking instant.

Wally was a panting, shaking mess, strung out with nothing but a wretched desire for Bruce to come back. He whined then swallowed, closing his eyes to try and clear his head again. That didn’t help; everything was already too on edge. His whole existence was boiled down into desperation for relief Bruce refused to grant him, the goddamn asshole. Teeth dug sharply into the gag in his mouth, grounding him enough to focus on the vibrations, their tempo, his tempo, and Wally very determinedly sped up his own spasms to meet the same rhythm. The relief was almost instantaneous – and it lasted even shorter than that.

Just like that, it changed inside of him, cranking up unexpectedly. Wally lost the hold, suddenly reeling as he gasped for breath. So it turned out it _still_ hadn’t been on the highest setting, he realized, screaming his frustration out into the room for the fifth time. He tried not to think about the fact that Bruce was watching.

All Bruce’s talk about ‘getting work done’ was bullshit. Wally could picture it – picture him – sitting downstairs in that dank, depressing cave with way too many monitors hooked up much too intrusively to his bedroom, stroking himself to completion watching Wally suffer, given how on display he’d left him (fuck, he wanted to close his legs). _Enjoying_ Wally suffer, more like, and probably laughing at his lame attempts to twist himself free.

Sadist was entirely too weak a word for what Bruce was. Wally slammed his head back against the pillow in frustration. Goddammit, he just wanted Bruce to come back. His skin was on fire, sweat he couldn’t wipe away beaded down his forehead, his whole…everything hurt, and nothing he could do made it easier (not that he could do much anyway). Wally was whimpering – had been, really, since Bruce had left him here. Like this. Years ago.

The click of the bedroom door practically screamed through the silence. Wally craned his neck, wild eyes searching out Bruce’s face. He looked even more inscrutable than always – or maybe Wally was just too strung out to try and figure him out. What Bruce didn’t look was in any way sympathetic. Wally whined again, trying on his most pathetic look to garner some of that elusive sympathy. It didn’t take much effort; Wally felt completely pathetic at this point. If Bruce didn’t give him a break, Wally was going to cry.

Bruce sauntered over to the bed, tossing off his shirt as he moved. The pants came off when he reached it, and he wasn’t wearing any underwear. That shouldn’t have made Wally hotter for it, nothing should’ve been able to do that at this point, but yet Wally couldn’t peel his eyes away from Bruce’s perfectly sculpted body as the man climbed on top of the mattress. Bruce’s cock stood straight, Wally noted, and hope bubbled inside of him. He tried for a shade more pathetic with his eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” Bruce snapped, face hardening at the wet green eyes imploring him. “It’s only been two hours.”

Two—!

Forget the pillow; Wally was going to wrap his hands around Bruce’s neck and strangle him when he got free.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. He wrapped a hand around Wally’s suffering cock and squeezed. Wally choked. He shook his head, unable to swallow the sob, and didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Bruce let go. The vibrations inside of him stopped just as abruptly. Wally’s whole body shuddered at the sudden relief. He slumped limply back and whimpered again.

“Have you had enough yet?” Bruce asked.

Wally jerked his head up and down as fast as he could which for him was downright lethargic. ‘Worn out,’ Bruce had said, and Wally was well past hating the idea of it. Bruce hummed thoughtfully, moving around on the bed. It was hard to make out what he was doing craning his neck like this, but the familiar squelch of lube had him breathing a sigh of relief.

The plug slipped out easily, but before Wally had a chance to be grateful – or even miss it – Bruce pushed it back in slowly, intense blue eyes locked onto the way it disappeared into Wally’s body. He groaned, trying to shift away – shift back up the mattress – but Bruce caught hold of the spreader bar again, stopping the attempt before even a flicker of hope could be garnered from it. He pushed the bar down until Wally was folded near in half and kept steady with the plug, in and in until—Wally practically shrieked, it was so undignified, as Bruce pressed it right up against his prostate and turned it on again.

“You don’t seem worn out enough to me.” Only because Bruce was a _goddamn asshole_. That _hurt_ (it all hurt), and he choked on a sob. Bruce smiled, and then the plug was gone again and Bruce was there, slamming into him as hard and fast as Wally normally liked. He keened, torn between wanting Bruce to keep going and wanting relief. Bruce was relentless, hammering into that fucking good spot inside him, except that hurt this time, too.

Bruce’s voice was low and entirely too sexy, lips brushing over Wally’s ear as he asked: “Is this what you wanted when you wouldn’t stop harassing me, Flash?”

Yes. This was exactly what he’d wanted.

Except it wasn’t _at all_ because his cock was still plugged up, trapped, and aching, balls painfully tight with no relief in sight. Wally moaned, wanting to rock back to meet each thrust, but the position Bruce was still holding him in made moving near impossible. His teeth were carving permanent grooves in the ball gagging him by now. Wally breathed in deeply once, then out, then in again, and started vibrating on the exhale.

Bruce let out a strangled curse, nearly falling over. He slowed, cock slipping halfway out before he gathered himself back. “Keep…keep doing that,” he ordered, but now each thrust was even more erratic than the last. Wally complied, knowing how Bruce was – knowing what Bruce liked, and honestly, a little too eager to finish this. It wasn’t long at all before Bruce let out one last gasp and exploded hot and wet inside him, a faint gasp of, “Wally,” escaping his lips.

Wally grunted lightly, but he didn’t have energy for much more than that. Bruce pulled out promptly and sat back. Wally could feel the cum spill out after him, slipping uncomfortably down his ass. If Bruce were nicer, he’d do something about that, but _nice_ and _Bruce_ didn’t even belong on the same planet tonight. He just kept his hold on the spreader bar, keeping Wally folded over, and panted lightly, eyes raking over the dishevelled sight Wally knew he made. Bruce’s eyes lingered on Wally’s ass – clenching, leaking, honestly kind of embarrassing – and his eyes glinted with something as he caught his breath back.

Wally didn’t care. He was ready for this to be over – hell, he’d been ready for this to be done _two hours_ ago. Even Bruce fucking him couldn’t make up for that. He didn’t know how else to catch his attention except to whine again. Bruce peeled his eyes away from Wally’s ass to meet his gaze, and Wally glanced pointedly down at his cock and then back up to Bruce, eyes wide and pleading. Bruce pinned him with an unimpressed look.

“I got you off three times already tonight,” he said. “Was that not enough for you?”

Wally keened again, the closest he could make it to outright begging. Bruce, if possible, looked even more unimpressed. The plug suddenly pressed against his hole again, and Wally’s eyes shot open even wider. He shook his head, imploring him not to, but Bruce wasn’t one to be deterred once he’d decided on something, and the plug was slowly – too slowly, _purposely_ slowly, so he could feel each fucking millimeter of silicone as it breached him – pushed back inside of him. Wally let out a loud, strangled noise as he collapsed his head back down onto the bed, shaking and whimpering when Bruce hadn’t even turned the fucking thing back on yet. It felt worse now, even more obtrusive and unrelenting than before, though that was probably just Wally’s imagination – probably just the burn of humiliation at the knowledge that Bruce had plugged his cum up inside Wally now, too.

“Don’t worry,” Bruce said, and the glint in his eyes was pure undiluted evil, worse than any supervillain Wally had ever encountered. “We’re not done. Not by a longshot.”

Wally shouted angrily, fighting against the chains. Bruce snorted disparagingly. He flicked the remote, and the vibrations screamed to life against his prostate as Wally screamed in frustration. Bruce let go of him then – finally – and let him straighten out as he himself climbed back out of the bed. Wally half expected him to disappear again, back to the Batcave for whatever bullshit he called “work”, but he didn’t. He dipped into the bathroom, and possibly out again, but it didn’t take long before Wally lost track of him entirely, overwhelmed and drowning in everything Bruce was doing to him. He squirmed, feet kicking helplessly as he rocked his ass against the mattress in a lame attempt to force the plug to move or…or fuck him or something other than torment him like this.

Bruce’s laugh cut through the haze, and red-rimmed eyes jerked up to meet his face. Wally didn’t even have it in him to try and pretend tears weren’t leaking down his face.

“Maybe next time you take it upon yourself to act like a brat, you’ll remember this,” Bruce said as he climbed back into the bed next to him. He shifted over until he was pressed up against Wally’s side, one arm thrown haphazardly over his over sensitized torso. Everything was over sensitized on him. One of Bruce’s legs slipped between Wally’s, still forced wide, and the thick thigh was entirely too much pressure against his captive cock. Wally’s hips rocked up on their own, softly humping his cock against Bruce’s leg like it would do anything except make him feel worse. And then rough fingers pinched harshly at his nipples, twisting them roughly, and Wally didn’t have the energy left to scream. He whined instead, still trying to tell Bruce he got the fucking point with his eyes.

“Next time, I’ll do something with these, too, I think.” Bruce let go, leaving Wally shuddering. “But for now, I’ll be kind.” That was a fucking joke, and Wally would be glad to scream that in two weeks when he’d recuperated from this actual torture. “You can take the night to think about things. We’ll see where you stand in the morning.”

In the _morning_? He couldn’t have heard right. Wally stared at Bruce through wet eyes, disbelieving, the muffled noise coming from him lame attempts and saying his name with possibly the occasional, “please,” thrown in.

“Good _night_ , Wally,” Bruce said pointedly. Wally tried to say his name louder.

The plug kicked up higher, and the attempts died down in favour of a sharp croak. Bruce’s arm squeezed tighter around Wally’s stomach, and Wally still couldn’t stop himself from rutting against Bruce’s thigh, and there was no way – no way – he could endure this for hours. Not that Bruce seemed to care. The kiss – soft and entirely too tender, a facsimile of caring and kindness – against the corner of his mouth was, quite frankly, insulting at this point.

“Have a good night.”

Wally cried.


End file.
